Paula,
Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran. In older blogs from my
first two out of nine plus years, I talked about how my mom and I
stayed at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City,
New Jersey, for summer vacations. We would go twice annually, once in
late June and once in middle August. This was done a total of ten
times, the season of 1965, 1966, 1967, and 1968. The 1967 season was
when my cousin Sandy came with us, at the request of her mom, my Aunt
Geraldine Snow Mason. She was very good friends with the Shah of
Iran. All of this was connected with stuff that goes back for
thousands of years. No one believes the story including members of my
own family. I don't care, because I have the inner strength that
comes from KNOWING the truth. The Shah put my Aunt up to going
somewhere and then asking her sister in law or my mom, to take my
Cuzz-Sandy along with us, and I cannot pull up in my mind due to a
CALLIO-MCGUIRE BLOCK MIND-HACK, whether it was the June or the August
stay, but it was 1967. I had originally thought that it was 1968, but
my Cousin-Don insisted that Sandy said no buttwipe cousin Mark, it
was 1967. She had her boyfriend, David with her, but he was staying
with friends of Don. She was staying with my mom and me, bunking on
one of the two beds in the room. Originally, things happened to me
that are not bloggable, and I was also mind-hacked by this entire
team, so that I would block out that experiment one was not a
success, and that experiment two had to be conducted, even after my
mom and I no longer went down to this hotel, which by the way, south
of the border, the word 'TRINITY' is pronounced 'TRINIDAD'.
THE
GAP APOLLO-LUCIFER ABBADON DEABOLIS,
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-MILITUFORCE-OTAMMITE KING, ETCETERA, (all the same
difference), is out to totally wipe me out, with a major vengeance.
Him and his dam powerful oblitron box,
some might call an ultra advanced tablet, and his twin sister's
non-'Kenny-Astral-cousin', and HER chain that SHE took away from me
in a powerful dream interaction, back in December of 1969, is the
real background to all of my nightmare story. As I said before folks,
and now in reiteration; MY STORY TELLS ITSELF,
so suppress it all you fucking want to world. As the old copyrighted
tape has me on record saying back in early 1984, ''MY STORY COMES OUT
TRUE, SO PLEASE BE ADVISED''!
Another
parallel part of this story, is told on the internet, as well as on
many BERMUDA TRIANGLE DOCUMENTARIES; where the Florida radio station
talk show host, was commandeered, equipment-wise; by those calling
themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}.
Every brother chucking snot eating claim that I ever make,, or have
made or will go on making, on this wide world web system; is totally
true and accurate. It all can be backed up by anybody with the dam
desire to GOOGLE around, and find it all out for themselves, my
BRAHHH!!!!!!!
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MARCH
14, 2015,
SATURDAY
MORNING AT 3:06,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 79%, FEELING LIKE 76 DEGREES.
WINDS
ARE SE AT 10 WITH GUSTS TO 25.
PREDICTION
FOR TODAY IS SUNNY AND HOT.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015.
MY
PRECIOUS SWEET DIANA, PLEASE DON'T GO AWAY. LYRICS FROM MY 1985
SONG CALLED, ''O'M CRIANA'.
Oh
lightning, where are you, lovely baby blond?
COURTESY
OF THE WEATHER BUG!!!
Weather
Map is courtesy of CHANNEL 12
local South Florida TV.
Note:
The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your
county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the
alert and the map processing.
Marine
Warning
There
are some things that need to be said. It won't take a major long
time, but I'm going to say a few of them now. I began by reminding
you all about the middle late nineteen sixties vacations taken by
myself and my mother, in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA. I now am
going to remind you about the powerful thing that happened to me
after the final time I saw the great elusive mysterious delicious
teen queen Sarah Nurockey or whatever her true last name was. This
name was given to me by Misses Estelle Anderson Bassler of Ormond
Beach, Florida, over th etelephone, in 1997. Many many things
happened to me in 1997, and a mathematical life chart system that
I had faithfully each and every day been doing, got so horrible
and depressing for me, that it was in th e summer time of that
year, that I brought it to a final close.
Summer
had ended and it was back to my special education school for me,
come early September of 1969. I had recently moved from an
apartment a couple miles away, to a new one, right off of the
White Horse Pike, the very road that goes straight into Atlantic
City and Sarah's almighty water company, the ACMUA. Come December,
I made a new friend from school and no longer saw my other friend,
Brad, as he had moved also a few months before I did, or in truth,
we both got kicked out for being mischievous, and I had a very
fowl mouth and cursed a lot of people out. This is why the cousin
of a world famous news-anchor man, Mack Kaiter or however his last
name was spelled, washed my mouth out with soap at summer camp in
July of 1968, in Northeast, Maryland, a place called, Camp
Chesapeake. So my new friend, Russel, lived across the railroad
tracks, in Oaklyn, New Jersey, from my Dellway arms Apartments,
with his grandparents. Like me and my family, he and his family
was filled with unspeakable dastardly deeds that no reputable blog
or blogger should even entertain talking about. There, I'm sure
you guessed the content, let's leave it at that, shall we folks!?
One night my mom was out on a date wit her boyfriend, Mister
Sidney Crown. It was around one in the morning, and suddenly I
heard the buzzer go off to my apartment, and I went to the door,
and it was Russell. He was loaded and tanked with an entire fifth
of straight Vodka. He was only just fifteen, and had been molested
by someone in the home he was living in, since he had recently had
a falling out with his grandparents and left to go live at this
other house with a man and his wife and several children. We got
into a very philosophical mood, as many people who were young in
those days and times, tended to do from time to time. I had
written an entire book from the perspective of a fourteen year
old, of all of th e weird things that I had experienced for a few
years, in Atlantic City. I took it out of a locked strongbox in my
bedroom closet. He began looking at it and reading it. He then
blurted out, you know you should burn this. Why he said it is
anyone's guess. It was the best evidence that I could possibly
have, and from the perspective of a youth, sort of a youth version
of Morianity, even back then. As I said, this never started, and
that is why it never can stop either.
But
there is a bit more to this. Just a few days before he came over
in the middle of the night and on a night that fortunately for the
both of us, my mom just happened to be out as I said, on a date.
Otherwise, we both would have been orbiting Oaklyn, New Jersey to
this day, with some help from 'Biceps-Mom'. I had gone to sleep
as stated, a few nights before this incident, and fell into the
wildest interaction in hyperspace, that is imaginable. This
experience has stayed with me for life and is just as strong in my
mind right now after four an da half decades have gone by, as when
this was freshly ongoing. Sarah appeared and we were on a beach
together. I am not going to tell the numerous details. Not on this
blog. It has been blogged years back, and needs not be fully
repeated in major detail right now. But the towel-seepage effect
of hyperspace was so major that rarely is anything remotely
similar to this, recorded in the history of humankind. She told me
that needed my chain that I had in the same large strong-box in my
bedroom closet. She needed it she told me, for her great city. I
had no idea what she was talking about, only that I was holding
this chain in my hands in this wild 'dreaming' experience. She
made that statement and then took it out of my hands. She also
told me that when I come back to my waking world, to check my
closet, as it will be gone, and this is not an ordinary dream.
Well it wasn't and there is no arguing that for a second. I woke
up and checked, an dindeed, the chain was gone and my mind was
completely blown. Then an hour and a half later, I boarded the bus
to go to school and within no time at all, a huge asterisk
chemtrail formed in the skies suddenly, right out of nowhere. It
was incredibly beautiful. It slowly began to evaporate, and while
it did, instead of doing what most jet vapor trails did back in
those days, it grew bigger and thicker and expanded into what
looked like the magnified star of David's Bethlehem, and all of
Camden County, New Jersey must have seen it on that cold brisk
December morning. I had written the most recent entry into this
book that Russell convinced me needed to be burned, and described
the dream and what happened after the dream with finding the chain
had indeed gone missing, and followed by that incredible monster
chemtrail all over the skies of an entire county. He had a
lighter with him as he smoked as well as drank and did weed, the
whole sixties bag and more, and he said, do you have a place we
can safely burn it. I told him I would stack some five pound
weight pieces that Sidney Crown had given to me for my birthday,
and on top of two on each side, I placed the metal strong box, and
he tore out all the pages and set a few on fire in sections so the
fire wouldn't grow too big. As stated, up in smoke on that early
morning, went my only proof of lots of the roots of all of my
Atlantic City mysterious woes out of the gates from hell. I felt
the need to re-tell this on this blog before I begin to really get
into some powerful new junk, as tnhe final months of my life play
out. I believe I am only going to live into the spring, and then,
I will be dead and gone. I want justice and I want my story kn own
about after my covert murder is completely carried out and I am
secretly executed. Because people, my death will appear of course,
normal, after-all folks younger than me and men especially, die at
60 and under. Also, if you study statistics on special education
people like myself, they are also in a statistically averaged
reduced span of lifetime.
There
were four years not like the others in my life, where strange
counter forces seemed to be operating around me, making my life
less hellish and almost appearing miraculously blessed, relatively
speaking for me anyway. These years were 1969, 1980, 1994, 2011,
with the 2011 being the least of these four, but to quote Jimmy
buffet, I believe I could have played a better game of cards with
what was being dealt to me, so I screwed up, maybe, as who can
ever know, and this is why people, although they all love to do
it; should not engage too often in playing mind games regarding
hyperspace equation, you know, the shoulda woulda coulda crap!
Still, these 48 total months were definitely different in some
very strange ways, to all the other times of my total 723.3 months
here on this Earth as Mark Wayne Mohr. The funny part is that even
a hundred genius Einstein minds could not make this up; not what I
am about to impart on the next few sentences. All four of these
years connected to Sarah Krassle in huge ways, no exceptions. The
final one had a scenario play out that is not bloggable. I also
cannot ever tell you some things I do to maintain sanity, as
without doing it, I would be a blithering blob being fed by tubes.
Two people are involved in it and if they're reading it, they'll
know what's being said. That's as far as I safely feel I should go
with that. But yes, one day in middle 2011 somewhere, they both
wanted to know if I wanted to change the rules. I did not. Unlike
whatever they thought they knew about my wild situation which has
eternal consequences and significance that they would be clueless
about; All I am safe to say is that I live in many varying
motions of time. I don't dare live in the very same real time that
you all do, and this of course makes interacting in a normal life,
totally impossible. But it is not some choice that I made because
I found a pair of shoes I like or a tie or even a car, and then
went onto purchase it. I do what I do for the simple reason, that
I must do it, or I am going to rapidly be transformed into a
babbling idiot. There are times it doesn't work. I cannot see into
the future in my own waking world, and learn that all of my stuff
is going to be taken away from me. I am not God, and never claimed
to be. So when such things interfere with how I operate, then
that is part of some higher divine providence data; as I call it.
I don't feel comfortable taking this conversation any further. The
more my enemies understand and grasp some of my survival tools,
the more they will become able to defeat me and them with such
maneuvers as was just mentioned. Do I believe this entire thing
was planned with this family, so I would lose all of my stuff?
Hey, by my way of thinking, and you can call me paranoid or
delusional or both all you want to, people, but I don't see how
this could be anything BUT THE CASE! The bible talks about forces
of the heavens that know all of us millions of years before we are
born, just read it all in the bible, and don't listen to me. So my
words on this topic for right now are quite simple, ''please don't
get me going''.
Folks,
I am hot, I am tired, I am depressed, and I am thoroughly dam
disgusted with this life here on the waking material world. You
may all keep and cherish it, with my blessing and best wishes. I
mean that from the bottom of my heart.
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And
the games begin. Things were quiet, but as soon as my MIND
CONNECTON began working, the sixth dimension to my physical world
human brain, for lack of any other way of putting this; things began
to start instantly. This is what I used to mislabel as ''They're
reading my mind and fucking with me''. It is a very automated bunch
of fucking hell that is all going on around us all, and me included,
as in that respect, I am no different than any one of you. I differ
only in this hell I must endlessly fucking endure, and my weird
ability to keep persisting through time and surviving it, which led
me to total enlightenment, not to mean for a second that I know it
all. Enlightenment to some basic truths has nothing what so fucking
ever to do with knowledge regarding individual things in the physical
world. A brain is a brain, and whether it be a little bigger or
better physically than a somewhat punier brain, it is basically a ten
watt receiving element from the sixth dimension, and you just cannot
put ten million watts into a ten watt item, this would be tantamount
to thinking you can go buy amplifiers and hook them up together like
a professional musician on a large stage, totally say 10,000 watts,
and then hooking these into output audio monitors or (speakers) that
only total 10 watts of power handling ability. So even though the
newest thing being discussed in the scientific community is varying
formulas regarding how much can ever be known due to some various
unbreakable codes that are all somehow built into cosmos, the real
truth is the double knowledge horizon barrier, caused by this wattage
example given here. Even the collective of all of humanity forever,
is a one watt speaker on a book shelf, and the total absolute system
of knowable items comes from a source putting out billions of these
parable-watts. This causes the mirage that the more we learn, we see
that there is so much more to learn, like holding two small cardboard
rectangles in front of our face, and each time you move the one
closer to your eyes one inch further away so you can see more, you
need to move the other piece that is further away, 5 inches more
away. Long Story Short (LSS), folks; we CANNOT ever know so much,
that knowing all we ever could, would be basically meaningless, in
the real absolute big picture of everything, and we would be just
about where we all are right now, at best; if we could reach that
point. What Morianity will do, if it is ever meant to, and it won't
if it is not meant to, and who can ever know; is stop all that talk
about supernatural verbiage, you know, demons and devils, possession,
miracles, heaven and hell, and along this line, and also
simultaneously, put to a quick halt, all the new so called
replacements for these old times items, you know, aliens,
extraterrestrial visitations, abductions, little gray's interfering
with humanity, and along that line, as well. There is one powerful
truth and always has been and always will be, and you know what I am
going to say next, or really, you have no reason to be wasting your
time up here on my blogs reading me. I speak of the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Those such as my old pal mister Baptest, who
prefer to insist that MIND is not EVERYTHING, that other THINGS OUT
BEYOND IT is what it is all about, will never alter their opinions.
MIND is what created space and time, hence SPACE-TIME-MIND or STM for
a short abbreviation, and this is truth no matter what and no matter
who loves this or hates this. Since MIND is on a higher dimension
than the hyperspace, and sends itself therefore down into the
multiverse of virtually unlimited 4-D space-time universes that all
vibrate differently on a powerful subatomic level, then this has to
be the truth, and no math formula can or ever will, disprove my
words, and or Morianity.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity;
COURTESY
OF CHANNEL 12 TELEVISION.
They
don't want me happy, do they Doctor Garrigan? Also, Paula Uwich
warned me about that rotten TAWF, and they are pals with my
daughter; I know this, without paying over nine grand for your con
job psychic service, phony lady. Hang around, all Paula's. The
Huntington's have a way of catching up with so many people,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
You're not gonna' send me a fifteen year old, Paula? I don't want you
to; you crazy little bitch. Enjoy
your home all fixed up and lovely, with MY MONEY.
How
do you sleep at night?
Just how long is the Camden County New Jersey 911 system gonna' keep
the great secrets of the murderers in my rotten ass family, huh Sarah
Slut Callio? Hay,
Ann King sleeps like a dam baby,
with my 40 inch 5,000 dollar, 1995 television; the original largest
picture tube made in those days! Sleep on, wonderful GAP AKS!
PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP---PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 143
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE:
CH-143-050711.971.55
AKA
(May
7, 2011)
WHAAAAA!
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Ed
Lynch was a strange old dog my friends and fiends out there. Ann
Silva told me on the telephone just the other day, that she never
heard anything from him, and wonders if he remains in lock up, or is
now out of the hotel. The Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office has my
legally paid for website on his laptop's hard-drive. His machine was
legally confiscated back in the summer time somewhere or early
autumn, in the OH-MAROLA-NINE year. For those who wonder why I use
this term, you should access my archived blogging texts at the site
of www.blogger.com, in case you
are not even reading these words on this site, as I post here, and to
other internet spots. In case you won't do this, I had several
teachers in 1969 at a Haddonfield, New Jersey, special education
school, who both made some statements to me that would have no
possible rational explanation for being in fact made to me, one
especially to a boy not yet even fifteen years of age, that would at
least in today's world, would be considered quite inappropriate, and
in my opinion, sufficient grounds for getting a teacher suspended or
canned completely. We need not get into that one, but as for the
dates being called what I do from time to time, this teacher by the
name of Misses Marola, always refered to years in this 21st
century as for example, 2004 would be spoken as two thousand four.
Now bear in mind that this was being done in the year of 1969, and
except for the show known as, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, all
science fiction writers, and all other people, spoke of years as 2004
for example as twenty-oh-four, and so forth; and somehow the mighty
Misses Marola seemed to either be the only one who knew this by lucky
chance and guesswork, or because she 'traveled', and we are not
talking about Europe or the Bahamas, huh Nick, my old road-trip pal
of 1996 and 2008? Many people write books, and claim how their
so-called psychic abilities permit them traveling around so many wild
mysterious realms, and other times, and the Astral Plane; and I'll be
quite frank with my readers, I am very skeptical of 99+% of these
people, and their writings, and their claims. Most 'of', you, and
(NOT ODF) are also just as skeptical of mine. The difference with
mine however, is that these blogs are date and time stamped by the
websites they post up into, and cannot be CHEATED. Nobody is black
boxing between two websites here that they own, just to push counters
up. No one is black boxing between their own website and their own
U-tube postings either. This is all non-cheated, and REAL, and so are
my claims that what has happened to me, HAS INDEED FREAKING HAPPENED
TO ME FOLKS. Why anybody would cheat, or lie about anything; blows my
mind. Maybe a few real psychics are out there, but again, these
persons are merely able to expand on the same sense of FEEL, that all
of us have, it is like the human muscular system. Lift enough heavy
barbells, and keep upping the amount of weight you lift on various
exercises, that make different muscle groups grow bigger and harder
and stronger; and growing stronger is what results. Some truth is
here, and Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey, is my personal proof
to all of this, as she has 'real power', and she knew about Braxton,
and from there; my own research just went on to super confirm many
other things, that I had suspected right along. How could she know
that “SARAH” was in prison? I SHOULD KNOW about this type of
maximum security prison, as I blogged my own version of it. Nothing
is making any of this vanish into the hat of the Copperfield's, YET?
Let me move on now, and tell that I was attacked today with quite a
bit of annoying loud music, loud road noises, a computer Lattisaw
hack jack attack quack, and also a diarrhea attack. This was all
intentionally done to me by WOMO enemies, and they have not learned
yet, that they will be counter struck with my blogged out words,
immediately after giving me another emereffing rotten stinking BOTBAR
day! Here is what I now will tell from yesterday, and unlimited
future ammunition is available for me when these disease weeds of the
bay, continue giving me endless crap. Also, at right about half past
ten, just five quarters of an hour back, I took a super low and quite
loud private airplane attack, zenithing right over the roof of this
freaking ghetto house, here on the great all mighty 26th
Street, in good old FPFLUSAESMWG, in this exact signature vibration
of the atomic hyperspace, in five dimensions.
The
full long details will not be told, just a little bit to get some
hearts pumping nice and hard. I spent 153 days and nights, all in one
nine hour period; while residing in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, living
in another parallel universe, in 1986. Most of this story is not
bloggable. It is way too powerful, and it involves United States
Presidents, as well as top scientific and research facilities, and
classified information. I have no desire to be taken to the BAY and
have my door come crashing in a few hours from now by federal agents.
Still, when I was in this other location, the All Mighty Goddess of
this world and beyond, was interacting with me quite differently, as
were other people in numerous positions of power, authority, and name
recognition. I had been contacted by someone in Washington, DC, and
ordered to report to an address there, where a secret meeting took
place, with many powerful 'world owners'. They told me that a song
that my daughter had written and I had copyrighted for her, was a
cover up and that they knew I really could 'travel around' in
unconventional ways, and demanded that I tell them exactly what the
entire next 30 years would be like on Wall Street, and with major
events. Naturally, I denied it all, and said it was just music, and
that even if I could do these things, I would never be a party to
this type of horrendous despicable behavior. I was then taken to some
secret place in the Atlantic Ocean, an unknown small island, where
the military had a totally covert operation going; and I was placed
in a hospital type of housing area, mostly confined to one room, and
to my bed. Eventually, I was able to convince these captors of mine,
that I would cooperate with them, and so they released me back to a
place where I was residing on Ohio Avenue, in Atlantic City, where a
large walk up apartment building existed, that does not exist here in
this universe, and where I was living with a very gorgeous laboratory
technician from the Atlantic City Medical Center, by the name of
Phyllis Alexander. My wife there, Paula King, and myself, had
recently separated for a second time, and this time, it was because
of some scandal about my being in trouble with Wall Street, and the
SEC. I only have some of the details, but that is a lot more than I
ever remembered so far, from this powerful 1986 interaction. I had
many other places where I also lived, the main place was in Egg
Harbor, New Jersey, and over here, is known as the Roundhouse Museum,
but over there, it is exponentially larger and has five stories, and
nearby to it, is another building that housed about 220 families, and
all of the land around for several square miles; all was part of this
one estate. Paula as well as my younger daughter PEE, all lived
there, and I would visit there upon occasion. But I had a strange
enemy that came from the future, and had fun playing with me like a
toy. In my so-called fictional book called, “The Permission
Barrier”, some of this story is told, and disguised around a bit.
Still, it all happened. Putting pieces together in hindsight, when I
stayed at Tom Reale's home in 1970, over there, I had been there
every summer, and never at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue.
There was no Tom Reale over there, just the Callio family, and the
King family, and Victoria Callio and Paula King were all the same
person there, whereas this is all different here. In this universe, I
had fallen in love with Paula at the age of fifteen, and we were
married two years later, but she left me in 1979, and said that I was
too immature. The wild dude that I refer to as the alchemist in many
old blogs over the past 4-6 years, was one of Robert McGuire's sons,
and he had four sons. Over here, I do not know about his offspring,
and never even checked out this line of the great family after him,
as I was so busy checking his dad out, and those all around him in
many directions. This is another man of mystery. Only the man named
Ed Lynch knows this, besides me; as we witnessed his appearing in a
photograph, and we have no memory at all of his ever being right
there at the car on Tennessee Avenue that day. I was told that this
same thing was done to both 'MI and me', a little Latin verbal humor
here. The only reason that I have remembered it all slowly over the
past two years or so, is because by pure random chance, I played the
wrong side of a cassette tape at my job-site in my car, while
guarding at the Cifaloglio Trucking site one night. Hearing the “MI”
on the tape brought it all back, slowly, ever so slowly, and bit by
bit, and piece by piece, I now am where I am, but at this place where
I went to yesterday, or now really back on Friday, a strange dude
explained something to me that put things into a major hyper time new
perspective. The same enemies want me to help them in this universe,
only here, they are using me in an entirely different way. Over
there, casino gambling never happened in Atlantic City until the 21st
century came around. There was no roulette playing for me, and hence
no learning about PARALLEL EVENT, and how to apply this technology to
the game's three outside betting parameters, as explained by me on so
many of my past blogging texts. Over here, they just use the parallel
event on me, or said more accurately, against me, as they knew that
they could make their Dow Jones Markets go from 1,600 points to
14,000 points within twenty years. They did exactly this, and the 20
years after 1986 all speaks for itself. Still, as Neilson puts it so
well, this is how the story goes, but as I will now amend and add to
these great words, there is a lot more to this freaking tale of
misery and woe, and it will be forthcoming, first to the Atlantic
County Prosecutor, as I am going to demand my website back, as I
legally paid for it, and I did nothing wrong; thus I plan to hire a
Florida attorney, to pursue this matter, so I can re-post this up, as
the 'MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2'.
'I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE'
CHAPTER
23
Boy oh boy oh
boy, have I been an angry person lately. Thank you great audience for
permitting me the privilege of expressing that decades old pent up
anger about family, the music bizz, and the unholy treatment of me by
the occupants of this world for six decades now, starting with my
clumsy klutz mother spilling me out into the street on my head, in
Philly, as an infant, when she tripped and fell one day on her way to
a doctor. Don't worry, this blog is short, and won't be all filled up
with righteous anger and indignation on the part of this blogger.
WHAAAAAAA-BIT, how silwee of me, maitees?
MARCH
13, 2015,
FRIDAY
EVENING AT 5:42,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 77 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-82/L-71)
HUMIDITY
IS 71%, FEELING LIKE 80 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ESE AT 17 WITH GUSTS TO 33.
SUP
FOLKS; IT IS ONLY ME, THE MOUNTAINPEN; WHO ELSE, YO?????????????????
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
23
I said it before and am saying it again, great people out here; I
am at the Public
Housing on Avenue B and Seventh Street.
No time travel, no restaurants, no nothing, and W—O—W! When I
printed how my life was destroyed by my wonderful awesome daughter,
maybe some had a bit of pity, you know, a WEEE
bit, who can ever know? Still, the evil Satanic world sure had a
financial laugh on me, you know, empire to empire, and ICPE-APE-WISE.
Mark
Wayne Mohr Blogs 2006-2015 ©
Quit
hacking, fucking jerk offs, and Captain Major Ronald Hunter of Titan
Security of early 1987. Holy piss, Mashell Blankenship; why did you
like me so much, you gorgeous freaking teen queen; SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT?
Ringboats Mister Charlie, calling Miss Chillie, and Mister 601 CB
Handle-Persons. Please
DON'T come in! Also, give my very best
to
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. Tell her how much I love her. She can
go on hating and despising me forever. That won't change a dam thing,
Mister Spock. So rest easy, YO.
WEEEEEEEEEE,
oh that wovwee Lakehouse
Lightning,
WABBIT!
In all honesty, lads and lassies, what are the odds of not only a
really cool and gorgeous lightning storm that had only those three
colors as in the Lakehouse 'Dreams', but
on the 27 day
in July, both in 2007 and in 2008. What really are the odds here;
Professor Michio Kaku of NYU, do you know?
DDDDDDO
YOU KNOW, OR YOU HAPPY WITH YOUR 20 YEAR DEFAULT JUDGEMENT ON ME,
L.C. PENNEY? MAYBE I WAS NEVER PROPERLY TAUGHT BY ANYONE, HOW TO
FUCKING DDDDDO DDDDDO DDOOO IT RIGHT BACK IN THE MIDDLE NINETIES. HOW
LONG AS THIS EVIL ESS BEEN EVESDROPPING AND SPYING ON EVERY SINGLE
THING I DO AND MOVE I MAKE, MISTER PRESIDENT? I WOULD GIVE MY DAM
SOUL TO KNOW THIS, MY GREAT FRIEND. DON'T LISTEN TO THOSE BASTARD
BUMS UP THERE IN DC SIR, YOU ARE DOING A FANTASTIC JOB, KEEP IT UP,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
Looks
so peaceful and serene here. I never forgot that gorgeous
Twinbay from Egg Harbor Township. Maybe if I lose my rotten
and pessimistic attitude,
and
admit to myself that Ziggy's 1969 advice to me was really on the
money, that went,
“Mark,
you don't 'KNOW' nothing”;
maybe she will let me take her on a sea cruise with Franky Ford, or
just to a nice picnic right here in this lovely park, as shown above!
AHA.
TECHNO-SCRIPTING-----AKA
(EDITING); FUN TO DO!
Filthy
fucking Jane Rotten Fondawhore just NAILED ME AGAIN, WITH PAGE ELEVEN
OF ELEVEN. WOW do I hate that miserable dirty bitch for doing this to
me!
I
am going to have to dam ass compensate for the attack here; lads and
lassies!!!!!!!!! HERE WE GO:
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
I'll
get you for this JANE, if it takes ten thousand dam years, muscle
girl! I know vengeance is yours, Almighty Jehovah Goddess my endless
love; but tell me this,
am
I totally wrong? BBBBBBBBBB
honest; Honey-Queen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess
Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I
get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess
Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I get clocked,
clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and
mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I get clocked, clobbered, and
cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and mean rotten
Darkvader Callio Martino. I get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in
hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader
Callio Martino. I get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time;
lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino.
I get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977
Princess Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I get
clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess
Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I get clocked,
clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and
mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. I get clocked, clobbered, and
cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess Leah, and mean rotten
Darkvader Callio Martino.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
I TRIED
TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER 22
I
am at the Public
Housing on Avenue B and Seventh Street.
No time travel, no restaurants, no nothing, and W—O—W! When I
printed how my life was destroyed by my wonderful awesome daughter,
maybe some had a bit of pity, you know, a WEEE
bit, who can ever know? Still, the evil Satanic world sure had a
financial laugh on me, you know, empire to empire, and ICPE-APE-WISE.
Mark
Wayne Mohr Blogs 2006-2015 ©
WOOOOOOOOOOOOLF!!!!!!!!!
Ringboats
Mister Charlie calling Miss Chillie and Mister 601 CB Handle-Persons.
Please DON'T come in!
Well,
I could utter these words of doom and gloom on Sunday or the other
six days of each week, BUTT, before I do, I will say this: (“Your
move, Captain”? I don't think so. Wanna' bet?)
Hey
folks, a little trip back to '79 and some cool speed changes, a
cheapo mike and a small portable cassette recorder, and this just
starts to get good, huh tall Donald? You
just made the move, old buddy. My best to Sarah-Stacey Jehovah
Krassle. Tell her how much I love her. She can go on hating and
despising me forever. That won't change a dam thing, Mister Spock. So
rest easy, YO. WEEEEEEEEEE!
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY
MORE
THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
22
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
|
Looks
so peaceful and serene here. Yet lurking behind any of these trees,
could be a rapist, a mugger, a serial killer, even the devil himself.
Ziggy said it all back in 1969. He told me one day on the Atlantic
City Beach, right at his fave jetty at the Central Pier, AKA the
Schiff's Pier on Saint James place; “Mark, you don't 'KNOW'
nothing!” I never forgot that. Sure, you can argue with me as the
gorgeous
Twinbay from Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey,
indeed would do; I'll guarantee it George Foreman, sir; and insist
that this is one
hell of a rotten and pessimistic attitude
on my part. Well, my response is in duplicate. First, you're totally
correct. Second, am I totally wrong? BBBBBBBBBB
honest; Honey-Queen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
get clocked, clobbered, and cubed in hyper time; lovely 1977 Princess
Leah, and mean rotten Darkvader Callio Martino. But tell me this if
you will, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara of Florida's great and wonderful
Saint Lucie County; just what are the mathematical odds, for both
the late 2009 television commercial, all of my 1983 and onward stuff
while I was with AT&T, back in Jersey when this all got a huge
foothold in my life, and then all of the other many escapades and
antics, of this great communications giant, from the lands of
Blake's, and Rambo's, and the great thing spoken to me in the early
autumn of 1987, by AT&T Head Lineman Arthur Bancroft? Oh and by
the way, ladies and gentlemen, back in early 1983; all of us could
only have AT&T, for those majority of people too young to know
and remember this little fact of life. That
WAS the phone company.
There were no choices, or all of this other weird stuff of today's
crazy society! And then when all of this began with me, suddenly,
like magic, only seen however in a hindsight cool perspective of
courser, BUT I CAN SEE IT PERFECTLY, the great ''phone company''
broke up, INTO LOTS OF LITTLE BABY-BELLS, as the news called this
event, BACK THEN in those times, that to me, was dam yesterday!
So
do I have a lot more to tell you about my new reflections of livng
from the tail end of August of 2008 through early middle December of
2009, with the great and powerful DMK? Of
course I do;
but
that can wait for a bit later on.
No need to disturb all of the FAWCES OF MISTER HALL TOO MUCH, all at
one dam time!
My
search to find the great SARAH,
all began back in the
beginning of 1996;
and all of those last couple of years of the nineteen hundreds, who
out here can remember those promotions with the numerous 'call ten'
numbers; that all suddenly just sprang out. Well,
I didn't need Kevin Dreamfields Costner to tell me what is
mathematically possible or not,
so please don't underestimate my intellect, and think of me as some
retard fool. Call 10 this and that, most of us over forty remember
this, especially if they had AT&T as their carrier. All a moron
has to do is say, gee, CALLIO (CALL-10). Why won't people believe me,
some wonder? Well, most don't believe or wonder, but a few don't
wonder about this because they know about THE WALL. You cannot break
the wall, not even with friends on large police forces, such as my
pal in late 1989 at Voorhees Township, New Jersey, such as Sergeant
Smarzinski. Here is one powerful example folks, and I know I'll get
the shit kicked out of me for printing it, but I am going to exercise
my rights under the First Amendment of the United States
Constitution, you know, that silly thing called Free-Speech, YO? It
is the story of the millennium, literally, as it all happened early
as it unfolded. Remember folks, centuries begin on the 01 year, but
millennium's begin on the 00 year. Even though it wasn't until well
into middle or late 2002 if memory is on board with me half correctly
right now, people; but its roots started before I ever left Guthrie
Shorts mansion at 231 Route 73, in blue Anchor, New Jersey, Mister
McThaxton, Paul and Chester-Frank! WEEEEEEEEEE to quote you CF! I'll
totally friggin' nutshell this story, and compare it to current
buzzing news that broke back earlier this very week, from the what
else, EW (music industry or bizz, RAW (Robert Andrews Whatever).
I
wrote a song back in this house called, “I ain't Got No Money”,
that was totally ripped off musically, not in lyrical content, in
2002. I complained by writing to the music industry two biggest
unions, ASCAP and BMI. I got nowhere but ignored, AS ALWAYS, even
after sending a proof tape! Poor people, unlike
the family of the GAP Mister Marvin Gaye
or however you spell his last name, I am not the greatest speller on
this planet, but I can write music. The proof of that is how so many
great artists steal my fucking shit that I send over the years to the
United States Office of the ©. What
is supposed to protect me, is actually ripping me off.
I don't accuse, but this makes it public property for inspection,
just not being able to copy and profit off of it, as my song most
definitely was. Any time you want these details, Sheriff Mascara, and
Pam Bondi AG of Florida, I will be glad to come in with a CD with
both the songs, mine and theirs. This has only been done to me
though, five dozen times, but in those many ripoffs of that rotten
fucking music industry, the two biggest ripoff thefts of my
intellectual property, was this incident and the one back in the
summer time of 1980, with my LOSTLOVE
song; and that I will tell anyone, that I don't see how the © Office
was not bribed. But I am not allowed to make that claim by law, or I
will be the one jailed for defamation of character; and
they have all of the money and power and resources,
and you all know just how much I have; but I'll print it anyway for
all of you who may be interested, $00000000000000.00! This is after
my food and rent and car insurance and utility bill is
paid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here
is what happened two years after writing the song. I had it on a
play-list, in those days, no computer was used. You took a master
source such as my open reel or another cassette deck, and you made
copies onto one copy-tape, from master copies of songs that you want
to hear in a car cassette player or wherever. Many were using
computers, but I hated them with a passion, and for that matter, I
still friggin' do. They are great for enemies to hack you with, and a
million other things, that in my life, are always bent negatively. If
you cannot accept that truth about me, lovely Twinbay, well, tough
petunia flowers, and Callio A&R post-Astral heart attack
interactions,
from great and powerful Cifaloglio job-site Christmas-pasts,
Ebeneezer. You don't own using humor to overcome hostile vengeful
feelings; greatest pop-diva on Earth! WO. Anyway moving this right
along; I accidentally, and I mean accidentally, not fake
accidentally; left this copy-tape in the Rover-Van at my security job
up across the river from the state capitol in New Jersey, good old
friggin' Trenton. This was the Tulleytown, Pennsylvania landfill and
the landfill next to it, all owned by the WM (Waste Management
Company, you all have seen the signs if you are from the USA, on
trucks, in the news, they are world famous, and one of the accounts
of the security outfit that I worked for back then, the Assets
Protection Company of Pendell, Pennsylvania, had them for a client.
The
job I had on my shift as Sergeant, was to rove around and check
various guard-shack posts to see if guards were there and doing their
jobs, a three year old frikkin' moron could do the job, but it kept
my frikkin' lights and TV going in my mobile home back at Jenny
Plageman's Mullica Mobile Manor, and kept some dam ass food on my
table too, even ice cream, juice, and other things talked about half
a decade or so later into the friggin' ass future, YO! Logic dictates
a lot of connections all through these times, right down to Braxton
trash calling me and annoying me, when I don't know any of these dam
people, nor do I care to! But my actual story, and it is true and
sworn now under a voluntary oath, Mizz Bondi, AG, and I swear this is
true under flag and nation, President B. Obama, sir! So I left this
tape in the rover-van and my relief guard, Kevin Willis enjoyed it,
and told me so. But I had something confirmed for me, before I ever
complained about my song being totally ripped off and stolen, after
hearing it blaring out on Pacific Avenue in Atlantic City one day
that I was there on business; by letter to those two large industry
unions, one of which I received royalty checks from for several
years, and even paid federal taxes one year on them, and the great
powerful U.S. Government and
the IRS can check this all out and VERIFY IT,
as the great Ronald Reagan put it so freaking eloquently, and I
totally agree, “Trust, but verify”. O wouldn't respect anyone for
NOT checking out my dam stories, as who the hell can have a life like
mine? ONLY
I FRIGGIN' DO, REALLY, HONEST TO GODDESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now
that all this crap is out of the dam way, I'll move ever onward,
great folks. Kevin on his lunch break, left the post and went across
the Delaware River to Trenton, New Jersey, a few minutes drive away
from the landfill, and he not only lived there, but worked another
job there as bouncer, at the biggest club in town, where industry
insiders and hot friggin'; shots, came on a regular basis. He ran off
a quick dub that any eighty dollar dubbing cassette deck can do at
double speed in half a dam hour, and gave the copy to his buddy
there, the head DJ spinner there. If nobody sees just how Mister
WOOOOOOLF and the rest of the MACY-BUNCH got so many ideas from my
actual real life through decades of time, SIMPLY
PUT, YOU'RE DAM BLIND!
But finishing the story here; this song that I wrote back in early
2000 from my Blue Anchor home long before ever working at Assets
Protection at this landfill location, or meeting Kev Willis; was
totally ripped off. You think that was a close rip that aired on the
news all over America the other day, SHEEEEEEEEIT people, that was,
and I ain't no dam musicologist, but that ain't anywhere near as
close as the music they stole note for note bar after bar, the entire
dam song, from my “I
Ain't Got No Money”.
This
song went to number one in major industry charts, and made millions;
and I should NOT BE HERE IN PUBLIC FUCKING HOUSING; GOVERNOR SCOTT.
You
know what else proves my blogs are totally real, great folks?
If this was not all some huge fuckin g conspiracy going on against me
to endlessly keep me down and suppressed, and just use and steal from
me all these decades, over and over and over and over again, then why
Governor Scott sir, don't you want me to get off of DISABILITY, and
become a PRODUCTIVE MNEMBER OF YOUR STATE'S DAM ASS SOPCIETY, oh
great sir? If you'd look into this matter, which I already
McKinnon know that you won't;
but if you dam would, kind sir; I would be able to be a millionaire,
and become known, and write a lot of much better shit than that dumb
ass song, and make way more money, and
pay you a lot of fuckiGN ass taxes, and you too IRS,
and unlike other rich people, I LOVE MY COUNTRY AND WANT TO PAY MY
FUCKIGN TAXES. Taxes are a necessary evil throughout the recorded
history of this planet. You cannot run countries and kingdoms without
a system of taxation, and I would never ever try to lessen my taxes
with billionaire-loopholes like my evil wicked rotten cousin Donald
and all the rest of these dam pigs, Governor sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So my fuckiGN proof to everything is quite simple, lads and lassies,
YO! Logic would insist that my elected officials would help me to get
some dam ass justice for all this theft, but it never will happen, as
something way way way way way way much fuckiGN huger than music or
even money, IS GOING ON BEHIND THESE GAP OZ CURTAINS, just in a
similar way that those trying to get the UFO shit honestly
investigated, all meet eventually, THEIR DAM BRICK WALL
ALSO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know how real this all is, as I
have lived it for half of a fuckiGN cunt lapping century, lads and
lassies!
Are
my blogs getting better, oh great powerful BLOGAUD (viewing
audience)? Well, keep reading, as it is going to only keep getting
better, as we move on along, as promised, this 2015 year, my friends
and fiends!!!! WHAAAHAHAHA Icabod Halloween Crane, and Arthur. Watch
out; here comes Patty-Paula,
those women really can drive, ol' buddy, YO! You too wonderful TD
Bank advertiser and friend of the WAYV Jersey radio people ( the
powers behind Atlantic City), look out there, be careful, crissake,
don't want anything to happen to you, Regis Philbin, my
BRAHHHH!!!!!!!! I will meanwhile, continue as always, to do my job as
the
everlasting hanging in there HUNTINGTON,
and IPYT. I knew when I had those recurring mother fucking
nightmares around the time this song got ripped off, Governor Scott,
and President Obama, sirs; that this was not me going dam ass crazy,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She comes over to 1802 Robin Hill Apartments and
tells me she just miscarried our younger daughter PEE. I didn't even
fuckiGN know that I had an older daughter, YO! Well,
while you sit there moaning and crying; at least I made use of my
Fascitar
and Eckankar
skills, and now can go and see my wonderful dam PEE any time that I
want to.
Ask the CIA, or the NSA, just how real soul travel, or as they call
it, (the other RV) or remote viewing, actually is, lads and lassies.
They use it to this day and tell you they don't, are we all
surprised? The real shadow society is the ESS, and a small part of
them became all of our cove-agencies around the time our great war
terminated just a little bit shy of the nineteen-fifties. I talk and
I talk about the Exploratronic Supermind Society, and 99.99999% of
you all laugh and laugh and laugh. What dam idiots. This is all
effecting your lives and your kids lives, and you sit there munching
the fuck on pizza and swigging down beers, and watching WHAT
THEY want you to watch on their mind-control entertainment system of
internet-television-radio-RAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gee-like wow, I'm fuckiGN cunt eating impressed, great Aunt Geraldine
Snow Mason, YO! Ripoff-Town, PAPA?
|
Audience |
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE, CHAPTER 21
Long
story made very short, great people; I really did do exactly what
this blog book title is repeating, for twenty-one times now. It
failed-failed-failed, and people like MCTH and others, keep wondering
why I say this, and what this really could possibly be about.
After-all, I am indeed 1400+ miles away from there as the roads go,
maybe a wee less as the crow flies, and I'm not a crow. So, I'll try
to explain, as well as ad in some cool new stuff that just might bend
some brains into frikkin' pretzels. Sorry if any of my words ever
cause anyone discomfort. Life is as real as we dream it to be, from
the vantage point of our truer plank existence. Still, if we remember
to think each and every second, along a totally programmed perfect
way, it will indeed alter reality around us and not the way many an
optimist believes in just three simple dimensions. It alters first, a
towel-seepage-effect in transdimensional reality,that will then go
onto make alterations where we appear to be awake in a tangible
caporial plane of existence, illusion or not, E=MC SQ or not. One day
Dawn King came into my room smoking and puffing hard on a long slim
cigarette and she put it down on an ash tray I kept in there for her
or mommy-Ann as they often came in and always smoking something as
they were the epitome of chain smokers and I was always ready for
them. She said, and this was right after moving into the first of the
two places that I resided with them, and yes, I was screwed with and
MIND-HACKED, so no need to tell me, on the prior blog; for any or all
of you that caught it, and scratched their heads, thinking which
house came first, the 6-9 non hallway medical dream house or the FBI
agent owned owned one next to the blueberry field. Mind hacking is
very real when you tell things on this magnitude. Forces don't like
it. They'll hack machines, and they'll hack other people to annoy me,
or they'll even go so far as to hack my own MIND and take control
over it just enough to screw up a blog. If you study the last 5-8
years of my more than 9 year blog project now, you'll see this has
been done on almost every blog, and over and over and over again,
with unrelenting passion on their part. This includes blocking my
mind-memory every single time I blog all these years, right up until
right now, to mention and explain this to you all in more clarity and
detail. This breaks a major barrier right now, putting my empire up a
notch, and theirs down. Also, as you can see, Maggie struck, or
really, has counter-struck. I don't like this, and I did not start
this war with the Milituforce. They started this with me, in AUGUST
OF FUCKING 1986, abnd no one is going to put any fucking guilt trips
on me. This is not my fault, Kevin Apollo-13 Bacon, so don't bust out
the wall if you don't want to die out in fucking outer space, YO!So
aniwho, getting back now on point; Dawn came in and said she wanted
to talk a seck about a tape that she heard playing in my car. I
thought she was sound asleep in the back seat the night before coming
home from Egg Harbor City, and she was faking or RAW. She said that I
had given a copy of that to her mom and one of the songs on it sung
by me was called, “Don't Hide, you Can't Hide”. This is the song
from 1997, where the lyrics went, “Einstein's
secret, kept as science fiction. Mark and Sarah aren't the only two
that no the diction”. She wanted me to tell her what I meant
by those words. I told her what was truth at the time in early
September of 2008; that they were just words, made up for the sake of
writing a stupid little song one day out of the blue, and the
original melody was written 20 years and a half or more ago, back
early spring time somewhere of eighty-eight. She blurted out, “I
was turning 22 back then, no what made me say that, I mean 20, and
was just out of my teens”. I said, “you were born in spring 68
then, not 70”. She got red in the face like a beet on a
thanksgiving dinner plate, and then she creamed at me, “yes, I was
born in 1968, not 70, so shut the fuck up Mark”. Then as if nothing
happened, she put out her long Virginia slim cigarette or whatever it
was, in my younger days those type of smokes were called that; and
she then said, “I know you're a liar Mark. Those words meant more
to you than just made up junk for a song out of thin air, and I know
this because of the CD that Carey did a while back, about that famous
formula”. I stared at her, realizing at that instant, that indeed,
this might be why she did that project or named it that. Dawn could
obviously read me and I was way to busy to try wearing any poker
faces; and she knew the mental wheels were spinning around inside my
mind, and beofre I had too long a chance to meditate on this powerful
new information that came to me by way of her; she yelled, “Mark to
Earth, come in you asshole”. I said to her, “I am sorry for
seeming to be sidetracked, but was trying to think why this all
happened, as I wrote those lyrics in 1997 to a musical older song I
had written as I just told you, back in 88”. She hesitated for ten
seconds, lit up a new cigarette from a pack in her blouse pocket,
with a very fancy lighter. Then she said to me, and I remember all
this clear as a dam bell. “I w ant to hear every song you wrote in
your life”. I told her it was no problem, that I would get a bunch
together onto some cassettes and give them to her. Naturally, these
included the 1983 and 1984 things with accidental flip side
conversations such as lab tech Mariah and I, and all of it, RGG from
86, the entire and complete enchalate. It only took me the weekend to
do at work, with a little dubbing tape deck, and I had made her
eighteen C-90 tapes on a special double-double speed system that
allowed me to do an entire C-90 duplication in about 22 minutes. A
week after that, Dawn changed and was never ever the same with me
again. Up until that time she always told me she liked my unusual
wild songs and style of music, and even liked my singing voice, which
made me wonder what she was smoking, but anyway, it all flipped
upside down by the middle of the following week. For 9 straight days
she began treating me so horribly that I cried to Ann when she came
into my room one afternoon. This horrible monster woman made a grown
man cry like a pathetic fucking little baby. And then she got worse
and worse and worse and worse. It never got better, just as my old
engineer Howard would say, back a the RPL Sound Studio, in 1980. But
after this time passed, I had to take her husband's brothers from
Guatemala, back to the Queens JFK Airport. She insisted that I take a
route through the city instead of Googling a much nicer way to get
there. When I got through that day of hell, my next day was even
worse, down in Atlantic City while taking her to her psych place at
the intersecting Pacific and Tennessee Avenues. Anyone wanting to
know about it can archive the middle September of my 2008 blogs; but
this is way too fucking depressing for me, to rehash right now. But
during these times, came major MC dreams, both at work when I would
doze off a short while, as well as when asleep at home. There was a
lakehouse, and Ann was always there, as was Nick Cannon, and Ann was
always doing things to Nick that angered him, and making it look as
if I had done it. One such incident was when she was high up on a
deck of this huge home, and throwing rocks out at him below, while he
was swimming in the lake, and then turning her back leaving him to
look up and see only me standing there. Finally he came running up
and did a Darius Evans on me. He grabbed my throat and lifted me up
in the air, choking me. Shortly after this while Ann was next door
visiting her friend Betty, Dawn again entered into my room and said,
“Mark, we need to have a fucking talk, you and me”. She told me
she was molested by her father as a child over and over again, and
was disgusted by my videotapes that she had found in the basement in
totes. I told her there was no pornography at all on those tapes, and
no under-aged people or anything disgusting, and did not know why she
was saying this to me, and I was almost in tears, again. Then she
went on and told how her brother Joe as well as her father were
monsters, and had abused her sexually over and over, and no one
helped or believed her as a small child. She hated sex and she hated
men. I asked her why she got married to Chicky (Lewis Laines) if she
hates men, after-all, I don't really like people or women all that
much, and so you don't see me so much as going out dating, so what
gives, I asked her? She screamed at me, “Fucking rotten bastard,
you're no good, you're soulless, stop asking me questions, I'm asking
you questions, you got that?” I submissively said, “Sorry, I
don't want to make you feel bad, but I can;t help you unless to tell
me why you have been so angry with me for weeks now, as we used to be
good friends before I moved in here with you and your mother”. Then
she grabbed my arm so hard it cut off all the blood circulation and
my hand went dead and cold and it hurt, and she threw me off my bed
and onto the floor, next to a chair she'd been sitting on, and now
was standing up in front of. She said, “Do you know why that real
high dog whistle sound played through your car stereo back a while
ago when you were driving near the Kessler Hospital and were with
Mommy and Ed?” I was shocked and thought to myself, I wonder why
Ann told her about this. She seemed able to read my thoughts, and
screamed out at me, “No Mark, Mommy never told me, and neither did
Ed. I dreamed it, and when there is real extra bright color in my
dreams, they come true or they tell something true and it never
fails”. I stared at her and eventually said, “Well Dawn it is
totally true, this did happen and it was horrible. I couldn't stop it
or shut it down or lower the volume or do anything at all and then
finally it stopped all by itself. Even shutting off the car and
taking out the key did not stop it”. Then she said a mind bending
thing to me that I honestly don't know why I put it out of my mind
other than my hell was so horrible monster bad living there under
that fucking roof with these monsters from hell. She said, In the
dream, I was Mariah Carey, not me, and I had a magic little
flashlight that made all kinds of pretty colors that went off and on,
and I aimed it at your car as it went by, and that is when it
happened to you”. I got quiet and kept my head down, and finally
she said, “Mark, I want those disgusting fucking tapes of yours,
taken out to the trash, before the end of the day”. With that, she
exited the room and slammed my door shut. An hour later Ann came back
from her visit with her friend Betty. Then Carol came over, a friend
of Dawn's, and they went out for a short while. While I was free to
speak to Ann, I told her only the highlights of the interaction
between her lovely Evil-Chuckie daughter and myself while she was
out. I told her I am not getting rid of my tapes, I have no money to
open up a Public storage space locker, and if she wants them gone,
then she can pay for this storage locker, or else, I will leave
within a week. Later that night, a family meeting, as many of these
happened, was held at the dining room table. Crissake; another meal
ruined daddy-1965!!!!!!!!!!! That's a story from Heredahellda. Well,
at this dinner table meeting, before dinner was served; I learned
that Dawn had read some dirty things I'd written onto the back covers
of these VHS tapes. It was all stuff taped off the TV, but I would
say things such as 'gorgeous Friends Show sluts' or 'whore Susie
Dakameyer', and stuff like this. Look, so I always had a low opinion
of women. I don't know why; but I have had it for more than 300 years
now; and I cannot change who I am. I don't mean to be hurtful,
offensive, or anything; but I should have the right to have my tapes,
and label them however I want, as nothing illegal or even
pornographic is on any of them. The most dirty they get is swimsuit
bikini contests. Then written on the VHS box might say something like
'Trashy girls in bikini's-like WOW'. These are typical things that
Dawn must have seen written on these tape boxes, and because she was
molested so badly as a very young child by her rotten family, and
this family is so full of fuckiGN rotten incest it isn't funny at
all; but this caused a lot of the explosion that went onto take my
head right off, and forever alter the relationship between the two of
us, which up until this last third of the year of 2008, was always
great. There was never a problem, and we laughed together and I never
had any reason to not like her a lot. If I had, crissake, would I
have moved right there in with her and he mom? Are you nuts? Still, I
think Dawn-Marie was 'possessed' to use old world lingo. Why would my
music be such a big part of it, if this was not the real cooky
monster behind all of this mother fuckiGN bull shit? Think about it
rationally, all of you great ladies and gentlemen out here, YO!
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR.
Kevin
Moore was only one of dozens who have stolen my material. But the
biggest case was in 1980 when my record promoter sold me out to Sigma
Sound and the Gamble-Huff team of vipers. Now the news is buzzing
with a song infringement case with Mister MG, and the group from
today, whose family says, ripped him off. But without money and
power and people behind you, try getting anything when your
intellectual property is getting robbed. Laugh-laugh-laugh-laugh. And
think about it peeps, we don't even need poor old dirtbag Mike
McNulty for this one!
Silly
me, not only are Trix for kids, but tricks pulled off against
financially little people by big financial bully people, is as old as
any playground rage either side of the fucking Mississippi River. But
when I ever try to get what's rightfully mine, I am called a
miserable complainer, a nut, a crack-pot, a moaner-bitcher, a
malcontent, and a few hundred other nice lovely expressions such as
these. Add sarcastic I suppose too. Yeah David, life really is
'grand', just like you said, but if I was able to be in your dead at
47 friends-club, never able to begin life into a 48 year birthday, I
would have spared 12 and a quarter years now of hopeless misery and
agonizing excruciating suffering that goes beyond even words such as
'inconceivable'. Think about it, 147 months since I was turning 48.
All those months of NOT SUFFERING, just if I could have somehow been
included in his DEAD AT AGE 47 CLUB, as all of his male friends
seemed to die with regularity, between their birthday of 47 and 48
years. When I was a little bit into this period, I struck a couple of
wild crazy deer that bolted right out at my car one dark night, back
in New Jersey. I thought, well, I am going to escape this. Well, my
daughter was right all along. There is no escape for me! Oh those dam
ass shadow monsters, Mister Woodside and Elder Hair. W-O-W!
Oh
yes, I definitively said that Dawn would literally have to be indwelt
by her very distant cousin, for all of this to begin to make any real
sense, and when I just hinted at it ever so dam slightly originally;
I GOT REAMED AND PUMMELED WITHIN HOURS, AG PAM BONDI OF FLORIDA,
USA-ESMWG! Now I will really need you to look over my shoulder
Sheriff Mascara of SL County of Florida, and AG Bondi. Please just do
what you can, and thank you very much! What would you guys do if this
had all gone down in your personal lives? Go ahead and ask yourself
that question in the privacy of you own souls, sometime. Maybe that
may evoke a spark of sympathy for me where none was there before.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Boy oh boy, do I seem to have a powerful and endless
effect on things around me; especially when and if it is at all
connected with the Entertainment industry (EW).
MARCH
12, 2015,
EARLY
THURSDAY MORNING AT 2:51,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 66 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 100%, AND IT FEELS 66 DEGREES.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-72/L-66).
BASICALLY
NO WIND, TO A WHISPER BREEZE.
|
|
HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, I REALLY THINK YOU ARE ONE COOL
KITTY!!!!!!!!!!!! JET BLACK WITH BRIGHT WHITE PAWS, AND HE LIKES AND
RESPECTS THOSE LIKE ME, WHO ARE ABLE TO TAKE FLIGHT; MIZZ WASHBURN.
WELL, MAYBE THAT'S WHAT ALL THIS SHIT PROVES, LOVELY JEN. GIVE MY
BEST TO GORGEOUS TIFFANY FOR ME, YO! OH AND MY BEST TO TWINBAY TOO,
YO.
Let's
get some fucking dam phones, and candy; and go crush on silly games,
that have no possible tangible reason for even existing at all, King
Rubbish! That's my SAGA, oh great ripped off pizza pie PAPA, non-GAGA
kitty cat.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bake
on Donna Summer and Paula Patton. Two lovely dolls if ever there were
any, but one looks up and sees brown and another looks down and sees
green. That makes a world of difference, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOO
ARTHUR CRANE, WHERE IS MISTER CHARLIE AND PAULA RUNNEROVER, I WONDER?
OH BOY, I AM KEEPING MY MOUTH SHUT. TO MAKE PAULA EVEN MADDER, I'LL
NOW SAY TO YOU, PLEASE BE CAREFUL, GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA.
Oh
shit Mister Ringboat sir, I
remember all the things you told me, oh mighty Steve
Psyche Murray
of Burlington. ALL
OF IT.
OH
THE GODS across the pond; Mister Myrathus. Let me come down now and
land this thing, Estelle Muller Foods Bassler Anderson Enron.
/////////\\\\\\\\\
and gee whiz gash golly darn it, Uncle John, Latengrate; only which
grate, and should I keep doing a John T. MacInrowe? I'm going to
fucking go throw a big ass temper tantrum now, mommy and daddy! I
hate the living guts, General Patton, out of people that never will
hear my side of all of this. Can you blame me, tough guy war hero,
pal of mine?????????
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
MARCH
11, 2015, NOT AMANDA HARRIS-DS.
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 11:03,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 81 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 72%, FEELING 86 DEGREES.
FORECAST
HIGH TODAY IS 88,
RANGE
TODAY IS-----(H-81/L-73)
WIND
IS ESE AT 13, GUSTING TO 14.
MY
ENEMIES AWOKE ME EARLY AGAIN, WITH ANOTHER ILLEGAL TELEPHONE
SQUEALING SOUND; OH GAP FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, MY OLD
FRIEND FROM 1972, MISTER
BOB MCDOWELL, SIR, AT COOLEY-WORMHOLE
HALL, OF HADDONFIELD, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!
RIGHT
AT JANE WHORE WITCH BITCH FONDA TIME, A LOUD ILLEGALLY LOW PRIVATE
AIRPLANE ATTACK JUST STRUCK THE BUILDING HERE WHERE I LIVE, SIRS AND
MA'AMS AT THE FEDERAL AVIATION ADMINISTRATION, AND PAM BONDI, STATE
OF FLORIDA ATTORNEY GENERAL'S OFFICE. THANK YOU NORTON SIR, I KNOW I
HAVE HIGH DISC USAGE, THANK YOU FOR THE PROCESS ALERT POP UP WINDOW.
I CLICK ON IT TO SEE WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT AND YOU NEVER
SHOW ME ANYTHING. LIKE DUH!
I
AM HEARING SOME DOORS STARTING UP, BUT NOT REAL LOUD, ALSO, SHERIFF
KM SIR. THIS HAS BEEN A REAL ASSAULT ON ME NOW WITH ALL OF THIS
CONTINUAL HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION, THAT ALL BEGAN LATE ON THE
FUCKING ASS AFTERNOON, OF LAST THURSDAY, AN ENTIRE WEEK BACK NOW;
FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT AND ANY AND ALL RELEVANT AUTHORITIES
OUT HERE, YO!
Last
night, I was with my beautiful Atlantic Ocean and she was giving me
the time of my life. Suddenly, those same ten or so gang of early
twenty-somethings from Atlantic City, a giant girl gang all around
six four to six eight in height, and more lovely than most beauty
contestants; all surrounded me again, and they brutally raped me.
Then I remember Detective Stabler and Benson, from the hit NBC-TV
Network show, “L&O-SVU” appearing while I was stumbling up to
some sand dunes. The exact beach that I seemed to be at was
unfamiliar to me. I sat down on one of a small group of very old
decrepit wooden chairs, that were all by the foot of these beach
dunes. Before continuing, the (WD-HACK) just knocked off a word, and
as you know from prior blogs, a lot of fucking (WD-HACKS) are again
being illegally used on my property here, FCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
DEMAND SOME FUCKING JUSTICE. So moving on and back to the 'dream',
they burst out laughing at me, even though I was all bloody and my
clothes were all torn apart as if I had been caught in a dam tornado.
When I asked why they were acting in this manner, they began grabbing
handfuls of sand and throwing it into my face until my eyes were no
longer able to see, and I was in intense pain. Then Detective Benson
said to me, “Mark you buttwipe you, don't you remember the day you
left Dawn King's psych place at Pacific and Tennessee Avenues, and
you heard her on her cellphone and you were silently thinking even
though you weren't able to hear the conversation on the other end
clearly, that the voice sounded like your old lab technician from
early 1984? I blurted out, yes I now recall that, but back then I
wasn't thinking about my lab teck daut a lot, as things hadn't all
gotten around to happening the way that they eventually did. Then
Detective Stabler said to me, Time to be a man and face up to your
daughter and tell her you're tired of her childish rotten behavior no
matter who the hell she is. I told him I didn't have the balls to do
this. Ann was suddenly there on a chair next to me while Stabler and
Benson were standing over me almost glaring at me, while my eyes
started to tear from the sand attack. Ann said, we have to go now,
Dawn wants you to go to the Rent-A-Center store near your guard
office in the Pleasantville Shopping Plaza, to see about renting some
furniture. This of course did all happen, the part where we went
there to rent furniture, and after that wild other dream where my
daughter said that I would be seeing her the following day, and in a
wild way, I did. So then Detective Benson went over to where Ann was
sitting and flipped her chair over sending Ann onto the beach yelling
at her, while Benson told her to shut up. Then I hollered out, holy
shit, that is when I saw her plastered all over the wall on large
screen television sets that were all set to the VH-1 Channel, and MC
was singing one of her many hit songs. Hay wait a second, Dawn was
talking to her on that phone of hers. Then Stabler blurted out real
loud, making me wipe slobber that was coming out of his mouth, off of
my face, as he did it with such force and veracity; “Put it
together you idiot, you're not a child Mark. She's been screwing'
with you since she was one though” That last sentence that I put in
quotations, I will remember as long as I'll remember President James
Earl Carter telling me “I KNOW” when he responded to me in 1986,
in that other beach interaction (dream) after I yelled over to him in
sort of a questioning manner, “I'm dead Mister President”. I
really did hear, and had blocked from my mind; that cellphone call;
despite DMK being right next to me in the passenger seat, while I was
driving down Pacific Avenue, towards where you turn to the right and
westbound, to enter the Expressway out of Atlantic City, and back
home to our rented home in Hammonton, New Jersey, owned by Federal
Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Agent, Steve Caruso, from Austin Texas,
back in the summer and autumn time in the year of 2009. I swear that
this is all true, right down to the dream interaction from the night
before this trip to take Dawn to her psych appointment, where MC told
me, “Mark, you'll be seeing me tomorrow on your trip to Atlantic
City with my Cuzz-Dawn”. As with the Krassle chain removal back in
December of 1969, I remember sort of chuckling in the interaction
(dream) when hearing that, and thinking, 'yeah, whatever'. These are
powerful incredible things that happened to me, yet what Dawn said to
me in private and in my room in the house before this house and the
one also from a powerful (DREAM-INTERACTION) with the 6-9 rooms
without a lot of hallways that all sort of go into each other and the
wind that was blowing the doors shut real loud and all of that, from
June 21, 2008.
What
no one knows is that I have recently met a person who knew the world
famous psychic who had a shop on the Black Horse Pike in Atlantic
City, by the name of 'world renown Julia',
and maybe still does for all I know. But this person has not been in
Jersey for thirty years.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015.
Just
what is meant by that bit of hocus pocus you may be dam wondering,
kind folks?
Well, whether it be the people at the Copyright Office, or any of my
family, or anyone at all, I learned or should have, years and years
and years ago; not to trust people, and not to depend on people.
Well, the first part of that is able to be used quite negatively. You
can indeed trust people. You can trust them to be HORRIBLE,
CRUEL,
and many times even CRIMINAL.
Just look at how Ann and Dawn made me lose what little I had in this
life. It is all gone forever; right down to a few pictures and photos
of my mom and me as a youth with friends, and so forth. They
took it all away, and as the sociopaths they are,
have no feeling about it at all. In 2011, Ann told me over the phone
right here in this very apartment here in Public Housing, from her
nice home up in Hammonton, “I am enjoying your nice 40 inch
television. I spent five thousand fucking cunt dollars to purchase
that TV set, back in 1995, and not in god dam fucking Rent-A-Center
either. I went to the very same American Appliances that I had gone
to in the summer of 1986, while living at Karpf's shit hole place in
Cherry Hill; to buy a used lousy refrigerator. The
U.S. © Office to this day, has a tape in my files up there; that
talks about this refrigerator, and this store on the Black Horse
Pike, in Mount Ephraim, New Jersey,
the same pike the great world fucking renown Julia Psychic lives and
operates on. Well, Jane fuckiGN miserable rotten whore Fonda just got
at me again, wonderful old dam world, page eleven of eleven, so allow
me to please cunt-phlegm-rape (compensate) to put it more politely
and less angrily! I cannot win for cunt huffing losing, squared,
cubed, and super fuckiGN Cuban!!!!!!!!
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
20
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Hay,
it's you and me, and Helen Reddy, against the world; Uncle Jesse
Hair! My best to the GG-BRIDGE. Just don't bother with yellow phones,
or crossovers!!!!
But
now my question is why, because the enemy is killing me at light
speed squared; lovely AG Mizz Bondi? This parallel event has made
perfect sense ever since August of 1986, so I confess to you, great
AG; I do not understand some things going on around me, and the
cosmos as well, ma'am. I'm only human B.A.P.
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
I ONLY WISH THAT JIM
BURRRRR
WAS MY ONLY
WORRY AND HASSLE. CAN
YOU IMAGINE MY KID'S FRIEND, EXPECTING ME TO BAIL HIM OUT OF YOUR
JAIL, BACK IN EARLY AUTUMN OF 2010; SHERIFF KM????????????????????
BOO-YA!!!!
Maybe I should run
away to Lingan
Cape Breton Nova Scotia, or just take a deep dive
into the sea and then a deep breath, and it will all be over for me,
Sheriff!!!!!!!!!!! Oh WOW Macy Bunch.
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
Not all of my blogs
are super long winded WAR AND PEACE works of Tolstoy, and not all of
them are mere little TWEETY-BIRDERS either. Many fall in-between,
after-all, this is a cosmos in perfect ordered balance. Just ask any
dam scientist or physicist, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWEET-TWEET-TWEET-TWEET,
WEEEEEEEEEEEE ALL LOVE THOSE TWEEEETY BIRDS, DON'T WEEE?
Hay
Poolroy, look at me go, back in 1995. Wait up Joan, we can share a
lap lane together, and blow poor old Poolroy's mind again! Without
any short blogs or birds; allow me now to just say,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Yes
Dawn told me something so huge about Julia Roberts and Benjamin Brat,
both characters playing as possible lovers, on an episode of the
greatest law-TV show in the history of the entertainment world (EW),
'LAW & ORDER'. She told me that they were very close for a while
on the fan side of the camera, sort of an older EW expression. She
went onto tell me that they both knew about me, meaning me and not
Dawn, and that she wouldn't ever tell me any more. Then she told me
when I swung the conversation towards MC a little bit, that I better
watch out. ''Her Atlantic City friends, as well as her distant
relations; don't like my blogs, whatever blogs are''. Dawn
was not computer savvy by the way, and did not know a reboot, from an
old smelly shoe. This is what some of you who hinted with me
some stuff, need to know and be told again, as to why I was claiming
dangerous living conditions, life threatening in fact, Stockholm
syndrome, and more; yet was blogging all manner of bad things about
her and her wonderful family from HELL! She told me that if the
Atlantic City Fire Chief who was super tight with her mom, which by
the way I had this totally verified later on while living in the next
house with these great marvelous folks; but that he would ice me, and
that no matter what happens or how I try to get vindication or
justice for my murder, I won't, and also, that the New York City
authorities won't ever ever put MY in jail no matyter what she might
do. This was after I said to her that I believe the two of you
planned that escape from the Seacaucus Rehab, and that my distant
cousin the donald also was in on it, “The Macy Bunch”. This is
when she said MC would come down to the house that evening, and kill
me in my sleep with her bare hands if I ever spoke like that again,
and that no one would ever put her in jail. I believe it all too. I
doubt that my own daughter would ever ice me, but it is well overdo,
and I'll admit it totally, for a real new juicy
O-JAY-TRIAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! May I pweeeeeeeze say 'WOW'.
If not, may I request a PASS to Shapiro, HTHS of Westmont, New
Jersey, USA-ESMWG?????????????????
Well,
I, unlike so many, and even salt water fishermen can be included in
this; am NOT a greedy person. This was one thing that the Jersey
casinos hated about me. This has all been told before and needs no
reiteration. Still, greed is probably just about the most dangerous
thing on the planet, but not the absolute most. That would be the new
age slow shift towards real honest to god sociopath uncaring
behavior. Ann can watch my 40 inch TV without a flinch of guilt for
what her family did to me. But Ann won't die in any lonely hearts
club. She has plenty of company, from jetty fishermen to Brat and
Roberts. We all know the song real well, even though it never made it
past the music sheets on my fucking keyboard stand, and the ©
Office.
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say,
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day,
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away.
Hay
psychic reader Sherry of Collingswood, New Jersey, United States,
from 1997, YO,
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER to KRASSLEVILLE,
so let
me tell my 'BLOGAUD' something about wonderful and awesome
KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE.
Hay
Sherry; that nutcase you worked along with, had the spirit of Mister
Krassle in him, to use old world lingo. We in Morianity and
After-Morianity, use the term, the ESS was taking an interest and
involving themselves with this. Hay, naturally and why not, this
involves the programmer of this entire upline-game-simulation. I knew
him a couple of years before I met you right on the lake near Sally
Starr's place on Beach Street, shortly after lovely Princess Diana
woke up out of this dream. She told me to come and see you, and I
felt like I was back in the Quakertown Park or that other park
further up north when my parents drove to an isolated place with a
merry-go-round, and a few other playground equipment apparatus.
Fawces don't like me talking too much, and suddenly my nabes are
shouting loudly out in the 'common hallway', Lex Luther, Otis, and
Miss Tessmocker. Well, the elevators are down beyond this, so why not
think of the old 1978 movie, for crissake? He really wanted to kick
my ass, and you actually stopped him once from doing that, Sherry.
But if things don't stop getting worse for me and this persecution
doesn't back fucking off; then I will have to run to the local press
to show all the reasons why the club did shut down, right down to
shit that Wright Patterson AFB is not going to like one tiny whittle
bit. BACK OFF ME MOTHER FUCKERS!
Oh
great and powerful lighthouse queen (GAPLQ), I am real tired of you
locking me up all over the place. In public water company properties,
in lighthouses, in warehouses, and RAW. Still, that cool white sports
car you drove after my fatal heart attack, now that was wild. The
flowers, the A&R assholes I was supposed to give them to, the
Callio connections, and when you add it all up and then some, I could
really cry for poor King-Elv. I don't know if mister Patterson
Cheatley will ever tell me whether you put him or put me, through
more total hell. In any event, I suppose who really fucking cares,
you big lovely goddess? Since this hell started around me in 1986,
only the year of 1994 seemed to be magical. It totally cut me a
break. Things, Big things started to go my way in almost unfathomable
ways. Why? Because the Baseball Clubs went on strike, so there was no
Phillies season. Then in the autumn, the HOCKEY CLUBS went on strike,
so DUH, there was no Flyers Season, only there was, a small one, as
early in 1995, when the magical year of 1994 ended, a short hockey
season began, causing a three year doubling of the Dow Jones stock
market, and basically, the end of my life, via the search for the
missing teenager of my past; the most inconceivable nightmare to ever
rear its ugly head in all of recorded history. In any event, that
harassing illegal airplane is circling my building again, Federal
Aviation Administration. First at ten past fucking eleven and now
again at two past fucking one. Both times right around the Jane
Dirtball witchbitch whore time. Real fuckiGN dirt balls, if I do say
so me'self, maitees!!!!!!!!
|
Audience |
Well,
I haven't told 5% of how this wonderful great family, and you have it
all wrong people, sorry to say and no offense, but it might begin
with the hard sound like the word consonant itself, but we are
talking the 'K' letter here. This is where the power of this family
from the stars really lays all hidden in and throughout numerous
super secret parts and factions of the Exploratronic Supermind
Society (ESS)! You know it as sure as you are breathing right now as
you read these words or hear them spoken off of a medium that does
this word document files. There never was or has been a president
like him, and even Mister Dan Quale knows it, and probably cries over
that humiliation that he had to endure on that pitiful late eighties
day. I can relate Danny old buddy, but my point is, we all know I am
telling you the truth. Just as we all know that most of my blogaud as
I call them, are not mere world travelers, but indeed, are hyperspace
travelers. Hay, I don't care if you eat strawberry ice cream or
banana and cherry whip, or rock road or RAW. But we all can agree on
some common ground. Show me another Pres-35, go ahead. Show me
another Mariah Carey for that matter. You can't. This unfortunately,
is why I am, sarcastically of course;
enjoying this wonderful great terrific and marvelous 60+ years so
very much, here on this great planet. WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!
“GONNA'
CRY BABY-DABY WINNY HICKS FLATLINERS, IF I TELL THE DETAILS OF THE
LAST WEEK OF SUPER SHIT THROWN AT ME?” PLEASE, NOT ON MY ACCOUNT!
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
ALL
YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS.
About me:
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Gender
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Male
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Industry
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Occupation
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
|
|
Interests
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|
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Favorite
Movies
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|
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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Gone
with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from
our future
|
You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything. JEEEEEEEEEZ, sorry about
my bad ada Twinbay!
United
States Copyright Office Records, pasted in part:
COPYRIGHT CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR
ALSO,
WHY
DID THEY DO THIS TO ME, ERNIE MERKER?
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, AND HIS BLOG
Oh
good Lordess and a quarter, William Leonard McKinnon. Let's both
fucking grow up and get the shit out of Peterpanville,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
was 83 and has dropped back to 81, but it feels like 86, at 1:27 this
Wednesday afternoon. Is this entire next part of trying to escape
Atlantic city all about Dawn King some may be wondering. The answer
would be, sigh of relief, NO, but some of it will be, in entirely new
updated light of course. Things change. People change. So we all need
to learn and grow, or adapt, even fucking Mountainpen. Thank you
Microsoft with that pretty light bulb of yours, yes, I have corrected
the double capital error, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
People; none of you
up here are stupid, whoever all of you are; and I think it is a well
diversified and quite intellectual group. When I said on Chapter 17
of my inability to ever escape Atlantic City Blog Book, that Dawn
would literally have to be indwelt by her very distant cousin, and
just hinted at it ever so dam slightly, I GOT REAMED AND PUMMELED
WITHIN HOURS, AG PAM BONDI OF FLORIDA, USA-ESMWG!
What
amazes me to dam death, is how dumb they must think that I am.
Don't they know that I am never sure of anything; and need to throw
out feelers; and then ''test for their reactions''; to quote the
great CCPO-ADA, Ron Wirtz, back in 1994; as he quoted this very
thing, over a pay-phone to me, when I was in Redbank, New Jersey, at
the park, on NO-NO-MERRY-DAY of 10-31-94? How really stupid is my
ENEMY, when you get right down to the full elucidated Linda Ronstadt
nitty-gritty, without the music or the band or even any stones or
ponies. W----O----W??!!
Hey folks, I figured
this was a powerful piece of knowledge, but then the major fuckiGN
attack on me that followed and resulted, merely added a few fucking
mega tons of luscious icing to the already scrumptious cake. Bake on
Donna Summer and Paula Patton. Two lovely dolls if ever there were
any, but one looks up and sees brown and another looks down and sees
green. That makes a world of difference, YO!
MARCH
10, 2015,
TUESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 4:01,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 82 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 63%, IT FEELS 85 DEGREES.
I
am sure their dirt ball stock market flew,
and will fly all week; after all that is being done to me. But in
spite of it, I
HAVE A MAJOR NEW ROULETTE SYSTEM, MIZZ AG BONDI.
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
19
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR.
OH
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, IS IT HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW I HATE LIFE IN THIS
DAM HORRIBLE FUCKING WORLD; LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. WELL, IF THEY THINK
THEY'LL STOP ME WITH TODAY'S MONSTER ASS HORRENDOUS FUCKING ATTACK;
THEY
CAN THINK AGAIN!
It would take about three trillion of these things to stop me from
telling you all some shit that will really make you know my blogs are
beyond surreal, yet awesome and true, and I don't brag here, merely
as do the birds, I just go on flying, and swimming along with
Pool-Joan, without swimming of course, huh
ROG???????????????????????? When are you going to ever admit all you
did over the past 12.7 years, ''my friend''??????? Oh yes sir, about
three trillion of them, these, “The
Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”,
“The Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”, “The Christ
Android” and if anyone thinks I am going to paste this in
3000000000000 times; then you're fruit cake material; cubed and
CUBAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
never told you a few things that the great Dawn-Marie king did to me
when I was in my room they had me in, over at Judge Rasu's home on
Middle Road near the K-Mart store, in Hammonton, New Jersey. Get your
mind of the sewer folks, nothing in that direction. But you know
something? When I tell these three things, and some shit that sort of
perfectly fits around it; you would say it would be far less of a
shocking story, if it was mind-sewer material. Like heaven, you can
wait a while; we'll get to this, Mister Rockford and pals. Oh
tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh
tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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